Natural sunlight gives way to a fluorescent glow as a pink north Austin apartment turns golden, the sun setting out the window.
Water fills a glass pitcher as ice melts and perspiration slips down the sides and settles on a wooden table amid a feast of lentils.
Hunger wracks my insides as I glance down at the “Table of Abraham.”
It is Ramadan and I’m trying my best to take part, avoiding all food, water and indulgences of any kind from sunup until sundown.
The last bite of food I had was at 6 a.m. It’s not like I haven’t gone the majority of a day without eating before, but knowing I don’t have the option really brings it home.
By 1 p.m., as my classes were completed for the day, I was met a stream of smiling faces, $5 foot-longs in hand, flowing from the Subway that I passed on the way to my apartment.
By 3 p.m., even the little plastic ice cream cone-shaped baker’s timer in my kitchen looked appetizing. Gum is not an option; water — dear water — isn’t either.
I am only fasting for one day. Muslims do this everyday for an entire month.
“We get used to it,” Veysel Demir says. “Think about it as an early breakfast and a little late dinner.”
Demir has invited me to join his family for their 10th Ramadan dinner of the year. Canan, his wife, dices an avocado in the kitchen while his father, Rifat, entertains Demir’s smiling eight-month-old son. The baby bubbles with laughter and emits shrieks of joy as the clock on the wall ticks slowly toward sundown.
“He likes Ramadan too because he likes the company,” Demir says, picking up his son with pride.
Demir and his friend Yetkin Yildirim, another guest, casually explain their customs to me as I eagerly watch the sun melt over the horizon, my stomach begging the clock on the wall to tick a little faster.
“It’s a Turkish tradition to try to have guests as often as possible,” Demir says. “Some can be Muslim families, but most are our American friends that don’t know anything about that, but they are learning.”
Yildirim explains the tradition stems from the teachings of Abraham.
“He had a tent and his tent had four doors looking north, east, south and west, so he was open to everyone,” Yildirim says. “Inviting people to share is like a prayer.”
Demir says the dinner, which covered the table quite nicely as night overtook day, is traditionally called the “Table of Abraham.”
We take our seats along with Demir and Yildirim’s wives and Demir’s parents. Bowls of lentil soup set at each seat create a border for a cornucopia of lentil, eggplant, tomato, tuna, rice, corn and spinach dishes. Demir fills a series of glasses with water, and I can feel the fast reaching its breaking point.
Everyone seated, Demir says a few words, assuring us beforehand that the pre-dinner prayer will be short.
I raise my glass to my lips and, as beautiful, clear water fills my mouth, my fast finally breaks.
Over one of the best dinners I’ve had, a feast comparable to Thanksgiving minus the turkey, Yildirim and Demir discuss the stark differences between the stereotypes and the realities of their culture.
“Most people know about other countries from movies or the news, but those are the extreme cases,” Yildirim says.
“It’s like science fiction,” Demir adds.
They are both members of the Institute of Interfaith Dialog, an organization that aims to explore the similarities between the various religions of the world.
“If you want to understand Islam, you have to look at the source,” Yildirim says, passionate and focused. “Looking at the Quran, it’s so clear there’s no way to allow terrorism in Islam. A Muslim cannot be a terrorist, and a terrorist cannot be a Muslim.”
There is a warmth to the room as the two friends expel myths. Every face at the table bears a smile.
“There are so many similarities, especially between Islam, Christianity and Judaism,” Yildirim says. “They all focus on the Ten Commandments — those are the main pillars of religion. What is wrong for Jews is wrong for Muslims.”
Demir agrees; then, glancing over the feast before us, cuts Yildirim off.
“Ok, for five minutes, nobody talks — just eat,” he says.
After a long day of doing just the opposite, Demir’s suggestion is golden. With a cleared plate and a full stomach, I finally taste the satisfaction Demir, Yildirim and their families feel each of the 30 nights of Ramadan.
say the Daily Mecca, writes an article on the "virtues" and "peacefulness" of Islam. Why subject us
to continued Islamic propaganda? Don't you have any decency?